


The Past Is Said (And Done)

by cuttlemefish



Series: Fought in a Battle Nobody Won [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Demons Have Feelings, Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov are Yuri Plisetsky's Parents, Katsuki Yuuri is a Little Shit, King Viktor, M/M, Minor Angst, Secrets Revealed, demon yuuri au, he's more like an advisor helping him take over the world, knight viktor au, story told in a series out of order, yuuri is a demon under contract only pretending to be viktor's queen, yuuri steals himself a baby yuri for the glory of the crown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21392293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttlemefish/pseuds/cuttlemefish
Summary: After pretending for months to be pregnant with the heir to the throne, Yuuri successfully pulls off a fake birth with Viktor's help. Both take care of a newborn Yuri. However, it's never that easy when plotting with demons, and Viktor finds that his demon is holding quite a few secrets from him--some of which may alter the very nature of his existence. Or, another random scene from the Demon Yuuri AU, in which Knight Viktor makes a deal with the demon Eros for the Giacometti crown and supremacy over all lands, only to find himself besotted and fake married to the demon meant to feast on his soul once he's dead. Now with a baby.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Fought in a Battle Nobody Won [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534994
Comments: 19
Kudos: 127





	The Past Is Said (And Done)

They say that the day Prince Yuri was born, King Viktor refused to let any doctors assist in the birth. He locked the bedroom and took care of everything on his own. The screams of his wife filled the hallway for an unending string of agonizing hours, until the cries of a baby were heard and an announcement was made that a boy had been born to the Nikiforov line.

Yet, no one was allowed to care for the Queen until 72 hours after the birth.

It’s a strange footnote in history that makes many rumors circulate about the origins of the heir to the throne, who looked neither like his father nor his mother.

.

“He’s very, very small. And very, very red,” Yuuri denotes with a little disgust as he stares down at the whaling baby with his little fists wound so tight that they turn whiter with every scream. Viktor sighs, reaching down into the crib to pull the child tight to his chest. “Is that normal for human babies?”

“It is when they’re hungry,” Viktor mumbles. He doesn’t know much about babies, but he can recognize hunger. Clearing his throat, he nods towards the bed. “Get back in bed. You’re supposed to be convalescing after a difficult birth.”

“What difficult birth?” Yuuri asks innocently, as if he had completely forgot that they’ve been lying for the last eight months about a pregnancy. Viktor wouldn’t be surprised if his demon had decided to only selectively remember that they’re now responsible for a newborn they have no way to properly feed. “Oh. Oh, _my _difficult birth. _That_ difficult birth. Right. Good job on delivering a healthy baby boy, darling. You’re such a prodigy. I didn’t feel a thing. How does it feel to be a father?” 

“Terrifying. Did you have some type of plan on how to feed him?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, annoyed as he fixes the adorable ribbon around his neck. He pulls something oddly shaped from mid-air—and Viktor wishes he’d stop doing that already. It threatens to send him to an early grave, not that Yuuri would mourn much over the feast of his soul finally belonging to him. 

“What is that?” Viktor asks, staring at the top of the contraption with odd disgust. “That is obscene, Yuuri. Put it away.”

“The nipple bothers you? You have two, darling. They’re just not very useful for the little beast. Stop giving me that look. It’s called a _bottle_, and babies use it all the time to feed in the future,” Yuuri smiles, not quite dotingly. It’s a smile Viktor hasn’t seen before, something between pleased and polite. He stretches out his arms, all white chiffon and lace drowning in a bed of pillows and goose-feather comforters. Viktor groans. No one is going to believe Yuuri just gave birth to a child, not with the way he looks like the perfect picture of beauty luxuriating in a sea of wealth. Birth is beautiful in its significance, but not in its aftermath. “Now hand the little beast over here.”

Viktor arches an eyebrow, “His name is Yuri, not whatever macabre sobriquet you deem to give him at any given moment.”

“I haven’t agreed to that,” Yuuri sing-songs, letting Viktor settle the small weight on his arm. Yuri seems to quiet almost instantly, big eyes transfixed on Yuuri. Viktor assumes he must recognize Yuuri as the most familiar face in the room. “Hello, chubby. Here, suck on this.”

Yuri suckles greedily, little hand splaying over the glass. His eyes focus on Yuuri’s face the entire time, and Viktor feels almost guilty. Technically, Yuri is an orphan. If anything, they’re saving his life. He’s also only been in the world about 24 hours; a baby can’t possibly know what they have done. But Yuri has these eyes, expressive and intelligent, that make Viktor think he knows—and that he despises Viktor, because he can’t seem to stop crying whenever he even sets foot near the crib. Viktor must be staring because Yuuri clears his throat and shifts along on the bed.

“Well? Come here, darling. Sit. I’m not extending an invitation. I’ve given you a son.” He preens, as if he’d really done the thing all on his own and not stolen an orphan after months of deception. “Come dote on us as you should.”

Viktor sits at the edge of the bed, hand tentative as he considers feeling the blond fluff on Yuri’s head. Yuri seems to sense his thoughts, pausing on his suckling to give out a tiny whine. It’s enough for Viktor to pull his hand away. Yuuri positions the nipple against his lips again, and Yuri continues his feeding.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think Yuri likes me,” Viktor pouts.

“That’s nonsense. Chubby has no opinions.”

Viktor shakes his head, “No. Seriously. He seems to cry when he sees me, but he acts quite differently with you. I just wish I knew why he hated me already.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He simply doesn’t know you yet, and you give too much importance to his opinion, which makes you paranoid and sends out a very alarming vibe that unsettles him. Babies are sensitive. But with time he will love you, or at least tolerate you. He’ll have to. It’s not like he can survive without you,” Yuuri cups Viktor’s jaw.

“He has you. He doesn’t need me,” Viktor scoffs.

“He will need you when I’m not around.”

It’s the first time in years that Yuuri has mentioned not being around. It makes Viktor feel unsettled. Yuri seems to sense it, too, as he fights with the bottle’s nipple. Yuuri hushes him, whispering unintelligible sounds before Yuri settles and returns to his feeding. If Viktor were into using his imagination, he might presume Yuuri brushed his lips over the pink forehead of their new charge.

“Should he eat that much? And what do you mean when you’re not around? I’m counting on you to keep him alive!”

“Even if I was here, he should have nannies. He doesn’t need me either.” Yuuri shrugs, “Surely, you didn’t think I’d spent my glorious immortality with you all the time? Let him eat until he’s satisfied.”

“But when we first met, you said you accepted to stay by my side for all eternity!” Viktor balks. He’s not sure why he’s arguing for eternal damnation. If Yuuri has changed his mind and wants to go, it should be good riddance—and a veritable upset, even if Viktor doesn’t feel prepared to raise a baby on his own. Still, Viktor would have everything he wants, without the torture of a demon to haunt him in the afterlife.

“Yes, but I’m a demon, darling. Consistency does not suit me. And being away for such a large portion of these last several months has showed me how much I miss causing mischief. Small mischief. Big mischief does lose its edge once you do it so… consistently.”

“I see,” Viktor understands clearly, “you find me boring now.”

Yuuri considers it for a moment, reaching over to press a kiss against Viktor’s jaw: “Only when you’re clothed, darling.”

“And you’re now interested in another.”

“I didn’t say that. You’re sulking. Stop sulking. You’ll get wrinkles on your forehead; it’s noticeable enough without them.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Yuri protests, and Yuuri pulls the bottle away.

“Here, you should burp him.”

It’s the first parental thing that Yuuri has said in the last twenty-four hours. Viktor tries to keep from smiling. Yuuri has a natural nurturing instinct that comes from his very essence being rooted in _excess_. He must naturally always either care too much or too little. He pendulums from one extreme to the other. It should be no different with a baby.

“He’ll cry,” Viktor reminds him, but does as he’s told. Yuri squirms. For something so small and fragile, he has a fighting spirit. But Yuri surprises him and doesn’t cry, making bubbles with his mouth instead. When he burps, he seems to relax—and Viktor tries to ignore the wet feeling against his shoulder. His tunic is thin. “Who have you found?”

“You’re intolerable when you’re jealous,” Yuuri chides him, brushing his hair back with nimble fingers.

“There’s not much more I can do, Yuuri,” he says, surprising himself by his own vulnerability. It’s a stupid thing to admit that he has come to depend on Yuuri like he does on the constancy of oxygen in the world. “I have the kingdom. We have expanded into an empire. There is no more land that I may take. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to keep you entertained for long, but I suppose I had always thought our connection went beyond that...”

“You’re being childish. You act as if I pretend to be wed to all the humans I contract with,” Yuuri jokes, but he also seems nervous. Viktor has never seen him look apprehensive before. “To be clear, I don’t. Commitment is not something I do.”

“I can see that now,” Viktor scoffs. After years, though, Viktor knows how to hold his own. “Well, I forbid it. If you leave, you will be breaking our contract. So, if you must leave, I suppose that brings an end to the question over my soul.”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t leave for some months still, and it breaks nothing. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you,” Yuuri whispers, hands trembling. Viktor watches him for a while longer. His eyes look glassy as he slides further down beneath the covers and turns on his side.

“What is wrong with you?”

Viktor doesn’t mean to be harsh. He’s learned to be hard on Yuuri, though. Love for demons is non-existent. There is lust and obsession, and somewhere in between something undefined and _hard_ with a toughness that cuts so deep, Viktor has learned to stop his own bleeding for fear that Yuuri might feast on it instead. But demons—given their nature—are not emotionless. They fall prey and seek those moments when they can throw themselves deep into the crashing waves of melancholy and depression. Viktor has learned to be a bell, ringing loud and unrelenting in the face of Yuuri’s more anxious moments.

“I might only be gone for some months.”

“You go for some months often. Why make it sound so final this time, then?”

“Because it should be final.”

Viktor sets Yuri down on the bed between them, “I don’t understand. Yuuri, are you crying? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen you like this, and I’m not very good about it with regular people. Should I kiss you?”

“Every time I’m here with you, you always have that same lost look,” Yuuri tells him cryptically. He turns again and lets a finger press against Yuri’s palm. “You always ask such stupid questions, too. There could never be anyone else, darling. I doubt after that there shall ever be anyone else for me.”

“You’re speaking nonsense again.”

“I should’ve told you long ago why I leave every so often.”

“You can tell me now,” Viktor whispers. He lets his hand fall over Yuri’s soft head.

“When you die, I will take your soul, Viktor. And I will grind it into dust and sprinkle it over a fine meal, and toast to your greatness,” Yuuri tells him, and Viktor nods, because he has heard Yuuri say as much for years now. He knows he has nothing to fear. No judgment. No fire. Just Yuuri. “It will be painless, I promise.”

“I know that.”

“Yet, every time you do die, I can’t seem to go through with it,” Yuuri whispers, tears falling down his cheeks. “So, I just rewind everything all over again. And I tell myself that the next time, I will do it and put an end to the cycle, but then I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m a despicable being with no concept of honor. I’m selfish.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Every time I fear that you won’t take the contract, that something may change, but you’re the most wonderfully consistent thing in my life, Viktor. Well, you and the little beast.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like consistency”

“I say a great many a thing that I do not mean. That’s my nature. I really am so sorry, Viktor.”

“When you leave, then—”

“I can’t bear myself to let you die without me there to hold your hand through the journey, darling, not when it is my fault that each time it is so much worse than the last. Death has a way of requiring retribution for alterations to the natural order of things. But I think have caused you enough harm by doing this, so this must be the last time.”

Viktor bumps their foreheads together, “Then let’s live this life out together one last time. Don’t go. Let me be the one that you take at last.”

“I _have_ to go. How scared must you be without me even now?” Yuuri explains, closing his eyes. Viktor wonders how it’s possible for anyone to still be beautiful when they cry. “It’s so different this time. So much more painful. You always seem to surprise me in the end. I wish you hadn’t chosen to do so this early. Everything is just so out of order.”

“And what about me? How am I supposed to live without you?”

Yuuri kisses Viktor’s nose, “Darling, you won’t even know I’m gone. I promise. As soon as the cycle is completed, it will all be a fade to dark, like curtains pulled too early on a stage. Promise it will be wholly painless.”


End file.
